This week has been quite a ride. I try to refrain from commenting on the seasons, the weather or current events on this blog because it’s about woodworking. But the last week has been one for the books.
Last week I ran a class on an American Welsh Stick Chair with students from all over – Toronto, Iowa, Texas, Michigan. As the week wore on, the news got darker about the health crisis, and everyone seemed on edge. While everyone kept a cheery veneer, it was unsettling when we all went out to dinner at empty restaurants.
Then two boxes arrived at the front door. Inside were the first copies of “Good Work: The Chairmaking Life of John Brown” by Christopher Williams. The book could not have come at a better time for my head. This book is the culmination of four years of heavy lifting on the part of Chris Williams, many members of John Brown’s family and all of us at Lost Art Press.
Publishing any book has ups and downs. This one vacillated between the stratosphere and the earth’s mantle at times. But flipping through the finished product – the physical, good-smelling thing that it is – brought me a little peace and joy. So many people – especially Chris Williams – gave so much to bring this book to life. That fact gave me hope that we will all make it through this dark time together.
I’ve been looking through “Good Work” during the last few evenings, enjoying the different points of view and the many, many beautiful photos of chairs. That’s a rare thing for me; usually I am a bit sick of a book by the time it gets to the printer.
Maybe this book is a special one. Or maybe I’m trying to enjoy it as best I can before I have to take it apart for toilet paper.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. “Good Work” has already begun to ship from our warehouse. If you placed a pre-publication order, it should arrive in the next week or so.
Editor’s note: As promised, Megan Fitzpatrick and I are writing a series of blog entries that explain how we have improved the construction process for “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” during the last nine years (and several hundred chests).
When I built my first tool chests, I dovetailed the carcase and then immediately nailed on the bottom boards. My goal was to use the bottom boards to pull the case square (if it needed it) and then hold it square as I attached the skirts around the outside.
The downside to this approach is that the bottom gets in the way of clamping the lower skirt to the carcase. Once we changed the order of operations, it became much easier to get the lower skirt attached to the carcase with few (if any gaps). Here’s what we do now:
Dovetail the carcase, level the joints and plane off any machine marks.
Assemble the carcase, and work like heck to get the case square at both its top and bottom. You need to check for square at both openings.
Dovetail the skirts, as per the book’s instructions.
Nail temporary 3/4”-thick blocks to the bottom rim of the carcase. These represent the future location of the bottom boards.
Glue the lower skirt in place, making sure it is flush with the temporary blocks mentioned above.
When the glue has dried, remove the blocks and put in the bottom boards.
The original 45° skirt.
The new 30° skirt.
We’ve also changed the bevel we cut on the skirts. In the original book I planed a 45° bevel on all the skirts. That’s fine, but a steep bevel looks much nicer. Now we use an approximately 30° bevel and leave a flat at the top of the bevel that’s about 3/16”. That flat area allows us to miter a 3/16” bead moulding around the skirt (if the customer wants it).
Carsiding. This stick is, I think, from Menard’s.
Bottom Boards
For many years, we made our own bottom boards for the chests and used shiplap joints or (my preference) tongue-and-groove joints on their long edges. Now we purchase ready-made tongue-and-groove pine boards from the home center. It’s cheaper and saves time.
The material is sometimes sold as pine “carsiding” in 1×6 or 1×8 sizes. You can find it in different grades. I suspect they are No. 1 and No. 2 grades, but they aren’t always marked that way in the store. You’ll know when you find No. 2. It looks like No. 2 (yes, that’s a scatalogical joke).
The new arrangement of the bottom boards, skirt (one has been removed for clarity) and the rot strips. The rot strips are now proud of the skirt.
Rot Strips
On the original chest, the rot strips were installed flush to the bottom edge of the lower skirt. Now we make the bottom boards flush to the bottom edge of the lower skirts. And the rot strips are proud of the skirts. This new arrangement prevents the skirts from getting wet and rotting. And the rot strips are now easier to replace when they get funky.
Finally, we now plane a 45° bevel on the long edges of the rot strips to make it easier to slide the finished chest across the shop floor.
The bad news: At midnight on March 11, you will no longer receive a free pdf of the book when you order a copy of the printed version. Before that deadline, you can get the printed book and the pdf for $49. On March 12, the printed book and the pdf will be $61.50.
I have yet to see the printed book, but it is scheduled to arrive at our Kentucky storefront sometime tomorrow. It should be a fun scene. I’m teaching a class this week on building an American Welsh stick chair, so we have some chairmakers who are eager to see the book. (I know I am.)
When will yours arrive? Soon, I hope. Our warehouse is generally speedy when filling pre-publication orders. You should receive an email about your copy in the coming week or so. As always, if you think something is amiss with your order, don’t leave a comment on the blog. Instead, send an email to help@lostartpress.com and we’ll be happy to assist you.
Editor’s note: As promised, Megan Fitzpatrick and I are writing a series of blog entries that explain how we have improved the construction process for “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” during the last nine years (and several hundred chests).
First, let’s get this out of the way: When I wrote “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest,” I didn’t think many people would build the damn thing. The chest was intended more as an idea. I love using floor chests, but I thought they would be a hard sell with readers. I was wrong.
When I started teaching classes on building the chest – the first class was in Germany before the book even came out – I struggled to get the students with a finished chest and lid after five days (never mind the interior tills and trays).
That forced me (and later Megan Fitzpatrick, who now teaches the tool chest classes) to rethink the process and see if we could make a chest in five days without using the “punishment whip” on the students. The first change I made (which saved a whole day of work) was to change the dovetails.
In the book, I used 13 dovetails at each corner – that’s 52 dovetails for the basic shell. And it is overkill. Nowadays we use seven dovetails at each corner. The chest is – in my opinion – just as strong. And most students assemble the shell by the end of the second day.
The second change was to eliminate the shallow rabbet I cut on the ends of the tail boards. The shallow rabbet assists in transferring the tail shape to the pinboards. In the book I show how to cut the rabbet on a table saw and with a rabbet plane.
When I started teaching this method, I found that most students had never used a rabbet plane. And so all their rabbets sloped down. Horribly. Chaos and gappy joints ensued.
Now I have the students temporarily tack a yardstick to the baseline of the tailboard (I call this the “Other Ruler Trick”). This helps everyone make the transfer with ease. No sloping rabbets. And no one locks themselves in the bathroom sobbing (not even me!).
The historical record is pretty clear. When it comes to chair joinery in vernacular furniture, most of the tenons and mortises are cylindrical. The most likely reason for this is you need only simple tools: a brace and bit to make the mortise, and a handplane to make the tenon. (You could also use a hollow auger, a lathe or several other methods to make the tenon. But using a plane is the simplest approach.)
To make a tapered joint, you need a reamer to enlarge the mortise to the correct shape. The tenon can be made simply with a plane. (Or you can speed up the process with a specialty tenon cutter, a lathe or other gizmos.)
Reamers show up in the historical record as a shop-made tool or something manufactured by a blacksmith or other metalworker. But they aren’t terribly common.
When I first started making chairs about 2003, I didn’t own a reamer. So I made all my tenons cylindrical. It’s fast. And when done properly, the joint is strong.
Chris Williams and I have long debated the merits of tapered joints vs. cylindrical ones. In the end, the reason I used the tapered joint in “The Anarchist’s Design Book” (and teach the method) is because it is more forgiving.
When you bore a cylindrical mortise, there is no way to fix an error in your angle. You are stuck with the result, like it or not.
When you ream a mortise, you can adjust a mortise that’s even 10° off (I’ve done it). That is reason enough to ream for me. And the extra expense of the reamer is more than justified.
We could spill endless pixels comparing cylindrical or tapered joints, pros and cons, strengths and weaknesses. But in the end, I ream for forgiveness.